Familiar Deception
by AlwaysJacob
Summary: After surviving the 2nd great War, and taking down the most evil Dark Wizard of all time, Harry Potter is dead. His widow, Ginny, has questions, and nobody seems to have the answers. So she takes it upon herself to find them, starting with the biggest question of all: Where is Harry's partner and best friend? Where is her brother? Where is Ron Weasley?
1. Gone

"I'm so sorry."

The words reverberated around in her head. Yet no matter how many times she replayed them, they wouldn't make sense. He couldn't be gone. Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. Dead.

Ginny was only vaguely aware of the Healer's hand on her shoulder before he turned away, unable to meet her wide eyes. She didn't see her family move in around her. Molly, holding her only daughter to her chest as though cradling an infant. Arthur, silently rubbing his princess' back. George, looking as though he were reliving a painful memory. Ginny saw none of this. Heard not a comforting word. Felt no reassuring hand.

Only one thing registered: Ron. Ron wasn't there. Just as Ron hadn't been there for the past fortnight. Ron, who had spent the past 15 years attached at Harry's hip, was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly rage, pure, unfiltered rage filled Ginny as she threw off her family's condolences, disregarding their pity. She didn't want their pity. She wanted answers. She wanted revenge.

"Ginny-" Molly never finished her sentence. Before she had time to say more than her daughter's name, she was gone.

"She'll be alright," Arthur said. "She just needs some time to herself. You know Ginny. She won't allow herself to show weakness." He hugged his wife, before turning to George, who gave an understanding nod and left to follow his sister.

George left his father to console his mother in the waiting room, while he followed the trail of flowing red hair as it disappeared behind the next corner. Her years of Quidditch training had made her exceptionally fast, and being her twin borthers' heir to mischeif making meant she could find a way out of almost any situation without thinking about it. But he was George Weasley. Only one person could find a passage faster than him, and he was...

George sped up and took a sudden right turn, through the Magical Maternity Ward. To his left, he could hear a baby's cry mixed with the bangs of what might've been fireworks. To his right, he passed a nurse, rubbing what could only be dittany on her left hand.

"Damn kid already has teeth." she said to her smiling colleague.

George pressed on, sweeping past the nursery window, where a few proud fathers were admiring their own little witches and wizards. He destinctly saw a small hand shoot red sparks from behind the glass, causing the caretaker to come over with a pair of very small dragon skin gloves.

At the end of the ward, George went through the set of double doors, and turned left just in time to stick his foot inside the closing elevator door. "Going down?" he asked of the only other passenger.

"Mum send you after me?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms tightly.

"Dad." he answered, as they began their descent "I reckon they think you'll do something stupid."

"Like what?"

"Well, seeing as our dear brother, and your husband's best friend isn't here," he said. The lift opened, and he followed her to the main lobby, "I suppose they think you might be going to find him, and possibly put him into some bodily harm."

Ginny didn't say anything as they passed the que, lead by a man with a chicken's head atop his shoulders. He was causing quite a stir, tearing feathers out of his head and throwing them around. A women had to chide her young children for pointing and giggling, while barely suppressing the smile on her own face.

"I reckon they're right." George pressed on.

Ginny spun around on the spot, causing him to almost collide with her.

"What do you want?"

After considering for a moment, he said, "I just want to make sure you're alright. And you don't do something you might regret later."

"Regret?" she said, firing up, "What would I regret, George? I just lost my husband, and Ron, " she turned back, continuing her way to the secure apperating point. "Ron is nowhere to be seen. He is my brother and Harry's best friend, sure. But he was his partner! Meaning that no matter the moral obligation, he had a duty to be there with him! And he wasn't!"

Everyone in the lobby turned to see the source of the commotion that had dampened the sound of squawking. George started walking faster to keep up. "I understand, believe me, I do. But you don't even know what's going on with him."

"What do you expect me to do?" she yelled, spinning around to face him once more. "Just wait for the coward to show up? Listen as he tells me he's sorry he's not here? Pretend he can make it all better? Fuck that! You don't know..." she trailed off, noticing the pained look on George's face. It was the same face he'd shown in the waiting room. The face he showed when he thought of Fred.

"I do know." he said quietly, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. "When I found out Percy was with Fred when he-" George took a deep breath before continuing. "I was more angry than I've ever been. What right did he have to even be there, much less fighting at Fred's side? I wouldn't even let Percy near his body at first. There are still times when I can't even be in the same room as him. But I try. I don't reckon Fred would want me to hold it against Perc. And I don't suppose Harry would want you to fly off at Ron without giving him a chance to explain."

Ginny allowed herself to be pulled into a hug. Her affection with her brothers was so rare, but it felt nice, all the same. "Alright." she said, pulling away. "I won't make any promises, but I'll try not to hurt him until he's told me what he has to say."

"Can't ask any more than that." George said, taking a step back to give her room.

"Tell Mum and Dad I'm alright."

"And are you?" he asked, "Alright?"

Ginny gave a weak smile and wiped the single tear from her eye, before turning on the spot, and disappearing into nothingness.


	2. Departure

Ginny stumbled a bit upon landing, and looked up at the historical house. It had been the home of one of the most pure blood minded families in the modern age. It had been used as headquarters and living space for the Order of the Phoenix. It had been the secret hide out for Harry, Ron and Hermione while they plotted Voldemort's downfall. Then it had been home to her and Harry. A place where they were going to start a family.

Now all she saw was an empty shell of dark blue painted wood, holding everything she cared about, just out of her reach. As if to say "This is what you could have had."

She had barely closed the door when it hit her. Wave after wave of emotion, crashing down on her small frame. She sank to the floor, thinking about her one true love. The man she'd known she would marry when she first saw him. The man who would have been the father to her children. Now all she had were the pictures lining the lonely hallway.

"Harry." The word sounded hollow, whispered from her trembling lips. But hearing it gave her the strength she needed to stand. Harry wouldn't want her to just lay there, crying. He wouldn't want her to just give up.

Slowly, Ginny walked the path to the stairs, allowing her hands to trace the frames as she passed: Harry's first Gryffindor Quidditch team photo. He sat in the middle, where all seekers sit. A large picture of the Burrow. Her mum and dad standing, arm in arm in front of her childhood home. The empty frame where Mistress Black would scream, before it was painted over with Sirius' portrait so the ex-marauder could talk to Harry before running off to his other, secret, portrait. He'd never told Harry where it was.

Finally, she stopped at the last frame. One of the few non-moving pictures in the house. Ginny stared at her one year younger self, hand in hand with Harry, as they exchanged words of family, love, and trust beneath the red and gold archway. Dumbledore's bright white tomb, contrasted dramatically with the Black Lake in the back ground.

She reached a shaking hand up. Her fingers were inches away from his inanimate face, when a voice croaked, "Mistress has been out late. Is everything alright? And where is Master?"

Ginny started slightly before turning to the old house elf. "Kreacher," she couldn't do it. She didn't have the strength to tell him the truth. "Harry is... busy. Work, you know?"

"Kreacher always says Master works too hard." the elf said, shaking his head slightly.

"He says the same about you." she said, thinking of how many times Harry worried over his servant's health.

"But it is Kreacher's duty, Miss." he said, bowing so low, joints were heard cracking, "It is Kreacher's honor to serve Master and Mistress Potter."

Ginny stared at the top of his shiny head, "Hey, I have an idea." She said, causing Kreacher to stand up slowly, again. "Why don't you take a day off. I know-" Ginny said, raising her voice over the sounds of protest, "I know you don't want to, but I know it would mean a lot to Harry. You mean so much to him, and he worries about you." Kreacher still looked anxious, as she continued, "Tell you what, just take a couple of hours. Go visit Winky and the other elves in kitchens of Hogwarts. Then, when he comes home, I'll tell him you've gone for a rest. He'll be pleased."

"Is Mistress giving Kreacher an order?"

"You know I don't order you to do anything, Kreacher." she said, exhausted by the effort of casual conversation.

"Kreacher will go. But Kreacher will work while at the kitchens of Hogwarts. Yes. Then he is not getting lazy." the elf said, looking as though he were swallowing glass. "Kreacher will be back in time to make breakfast." he said before bowing once more and disapparating with a loud CRACK!

Ginny sighed with relief, before continuing down the hall. She took the stair case she'd been followed up by Harry so many times. On the topmost landing, she opened the door to their bedroom. She barely noticed the creak in the door that had bothered her so much the day before. The blankets, tossed so haphazardly on the floor; the pile of clothes in the corner; Sirius' old poster of a bikini clad woman straddling a motorcycle, that Harry'd kept for "sentimental reasons"; Everything he'd ever done to aggrivate her... it was all so stupid now.

She crossed over to the night stand and picked up the photo sitting atop. How many times had she stared at it's faux smile and almost real wink, waiting on him to come home from one mission or another? The dark hair barely covering the light pink scar on his forehead, was just as it had been on their wedding day. His brilliant green eyes were just as beautiful as they were the first time she saw them. Ginny forced herself to put the picture facedown on the stand. There was work to do.

She pointed her wand at the wardrobe, With a bang, the doors flew open and several articles of clothing came out, folding themselves on the bed. Searching in her intimates drawer of the dresser, she found the bag Hermione had given her as a wedding gift. To anyone looking at it, the small bag looked like a mere coin purse, or perhaps a make up pack. But to those who looked inside, it resembled a vast hole, void of shape or depth.

Ginny flicked her wand, causing the folded clothes to float inside the bag, followed shortly by her bath tote. She looked around, before deciding to pick up Harry's photo and placing it delicately inside with the rest of her supplies.

As she decended the stairs, she stopped to look once more at the wedding photo. Then, not knowing why, she took down Sirius' empty frame, and placed it inside the bag.

The front door shut with a sound of finality. Outside, the night winds nipped at her pale skin, waking her up. She wouldn't wait for anyone else to solve this. This was to be her mission. And she had only one clue: she had to find Ron. And if someone wants somebody found, they go to one person.


	3. Reflection

The sun had set hours ago, and dawn was quickly approaching, but Hermione was still sitting in her bay window; her cup of coffee long forgotten beside her. Watching from the doorway leading off the study, a young man stood in the shadows.

Draco had offered to stay up as long as she liked, but was dismissed lovingly. The grief was hers to bear, she'd said, not his. It wasn't as if he hadn't cared for Potter. Draco owed him his life and so much more.

If it hadn't been for Potter, he, Draco, might never have shown his face in public again. After the War, the Malfoys stayed exhiled in their mansion. Not by public demand, but by personal shame. But the walls held secrets Draco couldn't forget, and he found himself going mad, with nobody to confide in.

Narcissa would spend most of the day with a strong face that couldn't hide the pain she felt. Her son would see it when she didn't know he was looking. She would shake softly while cooking. She was completely lost once they laid off their help. As she had told them, "You don't deserve to work for people like us." And Mrs. Malfoy paid took a large portion of the family fortune to pay a years salary to her staff, and sent them off. But she had never learned to fend for herself. Her head bent low, she would mask her sobs. Draco would try to comfort her, but she would just brush him off: "It's not your burden." She would say. And he would slope off to his room, feeling worse than before.

His father, for his part, had retreated to his bar in the dungeons, where he would stay from day break until long past his wife cried herself to sleep. Lucius had taken the downfall of the Dark Lord worse than anyone. Draco knew his father was sorry for what he'd done, but he couldn't help but feel that maybe Lucius were happier when he was a Death Eater.

With his mother trying to hide her shame, and his father drinking his own away, Draco was left with noone. Until the day the snowy owl came flying through the window of his room. He untied the parchment and gave the bird a reluctant stroke before she took off.

He flipped the note open and read: "I need your help. Come alone to the place where we first met."

He had no doubt that it was Harry. He'd only seen his handwriting once, when he confiscated a letter in their 5th year at Hogwarts. He couldn't say how he remembered it, but there was no mistake. He gathered his cloak and Nimbus 2001. Knowing his parents wouldn't notice his absence, he jumped out of his window.

Draco landed lightly outside Madam Malkin's, looking around for just a few seconds before spotting Harry.

"Why didn't you just apperate?"

"I prefer to fly." Draco answered, as Harry gave a curious grin. "You said you needed help?"

The grin slid from Harry's face. "Let's get a drink." he said, leading the way to the Leaky Cauldron. Draco sat in silence, as Harry told him about Hermione and Ron fighting. He told of Ron's late nights drinking, and Hermione calling him at late hours to cry until he could hear her even breathing on the other end, knowing she'd gone to sleep.

When he finished, Draco was staring at him over his untouched bottle of butterbeer. "Why are you telling me this?" he said, finally.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I mean, what has this to do with me? You must have friends you can talk to." Draco replied, trying to sound uninterested, and failing. "You're the Great Hero. Surely you don't need me."

Harry looked slightly uncomfortable. "That's just it. I do need you. Well, Hermione does." Draco watched him remove his glasses and wipe imaginary smudges from his lenses. "Look, Hermione and I have been close since first year. When she and Ron fought, I was always with her. Listening to her lies about how she didn't care about him. Consoling her when she couldn't lie any more. I can't stand to watch him do this to her again. She deserves better."

"So what do you want me to do?" Draco asked, uneasy.

Harry sighed heavily. "In sixth year, Ron and Lavender Brown hooked up. I think it was the final straw for Hermione. When I asked her why she didn't go out with someone, she said that she only liked two other boys in Hogwarts." Draco noticed the redness rising in Harry's cheeks as he continued. "One, she said, was secretly in love with her friend, Ginny. Me."

"Obviously." Draco said, eager to hear who the other was, yet, scared to find out.

"The other," Harry went on, "took a bit of coaxing. See, at the time, I had been in a bit of a feud with him. So she didn't want to tell me. Finally, after I promised a hundred times not to be angry, she told me it was-"

"Me?" said Draco.

"Obviously." Harry said. "Look, I don't know if you still think of her as just a mudblood," Draco winced at the word, and Harry smiled. "but she's one of my best friends. And the other best friend is treating her like dirt. Just try to see where I'm coming from. Imagine how this is for her."

"That won't be too hard." Draco replied.

Now, he stood looking at the silhouette of the woman he'd talked into leaving Ron. The woman he'd grown to love more and more day after day. The woman, raised by muggles, who he'd brought to formerly meet his pure blood family. The woman he would've never thought about if it hadn't been for Potter. He wouldn't just sit back like his father. He would make sure she would never go through anything alone again.

"Hermione," he said, placing a hand on her startled back.

She let out a gasp at his touch, "Draco, what are you doing up?" she said, wiping her eyes.

"I know I didn't know Pot- Harry, as long as you. But I miss him too. I owe him everything. He entrusted your happiness to me, and I don't plan on letting him down."

Hermione was about to reply when there came a knock on the door. "Who could that be?" she asked out loud, as she walked to answer it.

"Ginny?" Draco heard as he came into the sitting room. "How are you holding up? Come in. Can I get you some tea?" Hermione said, standing aside.

"Thanks, but I'm only here for a moment." Ginny said, pushing her fire red hair from her face. "Get a shirt on," she said, turning to Draco, "I need to talk to you."


	4. Requests

Draco started upstairs without a question. He grabbed night shirt from the bed, pulling it on as he went back into the livingroom.

"What's this about?" He asked, leaning against the nearest doorframe.

"I need your help." Ginny said, sitting down on the sofa.

Draco moved to the arm chair opposite Ginny, sitting with as much grace as he could muster, considering how nervous he felt. It seemed to him that nobody needed his help unless it was something big.

"I need you to find Ron." Ginny said, feeling it best to be straightforward. She went on, ignoring Hermione's sharp intake of breath. "Nobody has seen him for a couple of weeks. I want to know why he wasn't with Harry last night."

Draco sat in silence for a moment, thinking, "And you're under the impression that I could find him?" he asked, in a voice so drawling, Ginny was momentarily reminded of Professor Snape.

"I know you can."

"Do you?"

Ginny looked fleetingly at Hermione, who caught the subtle hint. "You know, I think I'll make that tea anyway." she said. She kissed Draco lightly on the head before walking to kitchen.

Draco and Ginny watched her leave, then turned in unison to face each other. Ginny spoke in a hurried whisper.

"Harry told me about you little side job." Her words had an instant, if only brief, impact. One second Draco wore the face of a child caught in wrong-doing. The next second, he was back to his smooth, confident self.

"I don't know what-"

"Stop playing around!" Ginny snapped, raising her voice. "He told me you did some work for the Aurors. Finding people they needed found. According to Harry, you're better than most of the Ministry. Well, I need someone found."

Draco sighed heavily. "I only did that to earn enough moeny to leave the Manor. I didn't want my parents' money." He answered her questioning look. "I didn't want to be associated with how it was, for want of a better term, earned. But that's neither here nor there. I don't have to... assist... the ministry anymore. I have a real job now."

"I'm aware of your position at Hogwarts." Ginny said. "But last I checked, term doesn't start until for another week. If you can't help me by then by all means, leave. Go back to your dungeons." When he didn't answer, she continued, "Harry also told me of a time when you helped him. So know that I wouldn't ask if it weren't something just as equally important to me as that was to him. Please."

Draco sat up straighter and locked his gray eyes on her brown eyes, staring for a moment that, to Ginny, stretched on for hours. She forced herself to stare back, waiting for his answer.

"I can't make any promises." He said, as a whistle coming from the kitchen announced the tea was finished. "So don't go into this thinking I'm going to find him. Instead," he lounged back, accepting Hermione's offered tea. "expect me to fail, but hope I get lucky. That's how it usually happens, anyway."

Ginny stood, and Draco caught a glimpse of ablue from her wrist, before it was hidden beneath her sleeve. "Thank you. I'll meet you here tomorrow morning. Sorry, Hermione." She added, as her friend laid down the tray, looking confused. The two women hugged, before Ginny left, leaving Draco to confide as he wished to his girlfriend.

He took a slow, deliberate drink before replacing the cup on the saucer. He raised his gaze to meet Hermione's conserned eyes. "There was a time, after we started dating," he began, motioning for her to sit in his lap, "when I came to realize that I had to leave my family home. As much as I love my mother and father, I was no longer their responsibility. They had quite enough trouble looking after themselves."

Hermione sat down on his offered knee. "Draco, you've told me this. What does this have to do with Ginny?"

He continued as thouigh she hadn't interrupted. "Mother was heartbroken, of course. I think she felt at that time that her only purpose was to watch after me. Make sure I was safe. And Father, well, he was too... busy... to care or even notice."

Hermione took his face in her hands, "You know it was the right thing to do. Please, tell me what's going on."

Again, Draco went on as though he hadn't paused. "I knew I would need money. And I couldn't bring myself to take from our vault at Gringhotts. Just the thought of touching the fortune built on others' livelihoods made me nauseous."

"Draco." she said his name in a whisper that barely touched his ears. Yet he could hear the concern in her voice.

"I went to Harry." He said, continuing his story, "I told him about my situation, and after I refused his charity, he suggested a type of freelance manhunting. Like a Snatcher, but looking for the bad guys. He said the Ministry had rewards out for most of them, and it would be a great way to earn some quick money."

"So you were a bounty hunter?" he looked confused. "It's what muggles call individuals who bring in criminals for law enforcement in exchange for monetary gain.

He smirked slightly. She always talked as if reading from a dictionary when she was nervous. "Something like that." he said, suddenly turning serious again. "I was good. I took a lot of people down. For a span of about 3 months, the Prophet was talking about a vigilante on the loose."

"I remember." Hermione said, "they were going on about how baffled the Magical Law Enforcement was. That was all you?"

"Like I said, I was good. Having the name Malfoy gets you into places most people don't even know about. It gets you in with the right people, allows you to hear the right things. It was really simple, for the most part. But the Prophet made me out to be some enigma, fighting for the good of the people. But in the end, it was all just a job. Once I raised enough money, I bought this place, and went to McGonagall about a job."

"I remember Harry talking to me about that." Hermione said, smiling. "Apparently she called on him for advice. She was worried, you were, shall we say, repeating history?"

"Well, she was rather reluctant." he said, pulling her in closer, "But becoming Potions master meant I wouldn't have to be a... bounty hunter... anymore. Until now, anyway." He sighed into Hermione's hair, "Ginny wants me to find Ron. She thinks he might know something about Harry's death."

He expected her to bolt up, or shout, or maybe even cry, but all she did was release a slow beath on his chest. "I've been thinking that too. It just doesn't make sense for him to disappear like that."

He wanted to talk more about it, but knew he would need rest before going out in the morning.

Hermione seemed to read his thoughts. As she stood up, she kissed him on the cheek and said, "It's been a long night. What do you say we spend the rest of it in bed?"

Draco caught the tease in her voice, and stood to follow her upstairs. The tea set lay forgotten on the table.


	5. Preperation

The clouds over Godric's Hollow were so thick, it might have been midnight, were it not for the sounds of people waking in the surrounding houses. Ron's hair, drenched with sweat, stuck to his forehead.

Under the invisibility cloak, he moved forward. Despite the heat of the Summer morning, he refused to take it off. It wouldn't be a good idea to be spotted here.

He paused at the memorial before the gates, staring at the baby version of the man he'd spent half of his life fighting beside. No scar. No glasses. Just a granite baby boy being cuddled by his granite mother and father.

Shaking the image from his mind, he continued into the graveyard, walking past headstones in various stages of erosion. Somewhere in here was a marker for one of the Peverell brothers. Up and down the rows he walked, pausing momentarily when he read a name wrong, only to keep moving.

At last he saw them. James and Lily Potter. Just as he'd suspected, there was a spot next to these, on Lily's side, completely cleared of weeds and fallen leaves. With a look of shame on his face, he stared at the Potters' names as he waved his wand at the empty lot, saying the incantation in his mind.

He was sure it had worked, without knowing how. As he left, he didn't look back at the tombs, nor the monument. He stopped at the end of the street, and as the church bells rang for the 7th time, echoing throughout the village, he disapparated with a faint POP.

As promised, Ginny arrived at daybreak. Hermione answered the door, looking as though she'd only slept an hour. Ginny looked guiltily at her watch, realizing she probably had.

But when Hermione moved aside to let her in, she was all smiles. "He's in the shower." She said, taking Ginny's cloak and leading her to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry for coming so early," Ginny said, taking a seat at the table. "it's just, the Ministry wants the funeral arrangements done today. They're afraid too many magic people showing up at once will cause trouble, but I don't see how they can avoid it."

Hermione handed her a cup of coffee before turning back to her pan of eggs. "Yes, it'll be like Dumbledore's funeral all over again."

Ginny said nothing, enjoying the hot drink, and the alertness it provided. She didn't remember the last time she'd slept. She wondered when or if she would ever be able to sleep again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Draco. "You weren't kidding about coming early, were you?" he said, drying his hair.

"I have business with the Ministry later today, so I need to get everything straightened out with you first."

"Right." he said simply, walking over to the range.

Ginny watched as Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione before kissing her softly on the neck. The sight made her ache for Harry. She could almost feel his lips on her cheek. She closed her eyes, trying to control herself. There would be time for weakness later.

"Ginny," she opened her eyes at the sound of her name to see Hermione turning with a plate in her hands.

"No thanks," she said, "I'm not really hungry. I just want to get going as soon as possible."

Draco sighed heavily as he came to the table. "I'll just finish getting dressed." he said.

Ginny watched Hermione follow Draco with her eyes. Again she felt her longing for Harry. "I'm sorry." How many times had she told Hermione that in the past few hours? "Really. Hopefully this won't take long."

Hermione looked at her with a deep sympathy that can only come from years of understanding. "Please, just watch after yourself. Draco told me about his former job. I don't know what you two are going into, but," she put her hand on Ginny's, "I just don't want to lose another friend."

"Are you ready?" Came Draco's voice.

Hermione led Ginny to the living room, still holding her hand. Draco stood near the door, wearing an ink green shirt, emblazoned with _Can I Slytherin_? in silver across the chest. Hermione gave a weak laugh.

"Look after each other." she said, "And you," she added, looking at Draco, "please be careful."

"I walk the finest line of danger and grace." he replied, kissing her on the forehead.

"Just be sure that when you fall off that line, you land on the right side."

"As if there were any other way for me to fall. Rest assured, I'll be home in time for supper."

"I'm making Shepard's pie."

Draco pulled a face, "I might be back in time for dessert." he said, earning a slap on the arm.

Ginny cleared her throat, "I'll just wait out here." she said, walking outside.

"Please," Hermione repeated. Draco was momentarily caught off guard by the urency in her voice. He could see the wetness forming in the corners of her eyes. "Come home safely. I mean it."

"I would never leave you for any longer than was necessary." he held her jaw in his hands, trying to prove his honesty with his gaze. "I will be safe. I will come home. And I will eat triple portions of your Shepard's pie."

Hermione forced a chuckle as the tears overflowed. "You hate Shepard's pie."

"For you, I would enjoy every bite."

He lifted her chin up and kissed her. He put as much passion into the kiss as he could. When he broke away, he leaned in once more, to kiss the tear that lingered on her cheek. "I love you."

"Don't say that." Hermione said, "It sounds like you're saying goodbye. Just... just be safe."

Draco wanted to say something to comfort her, but for the first time he could remember, he was at a loss for words. Instead, he turned and walked outside, closing the door behind him.

"I'm-" Ginny started.

"Save it." Draco said. "Let's just get this over with."

Heat that had nothing to do with the rising sun rose in Ginny's face, but she forced herself to stay calm. He might be her only hope. "Fair enough." she said in a strained voice. "Where to?"

Draco looked at her, his face like stone. "We're going to see my father."


	6. Decent

The morning Sun beat down on Ginny as she walked through Diagon alley with Draco. As they passed shop after shop, she was reminded of her first trip, years ago.

It was Ron's first year. Her mother had finally decided she was old enough to not get in trouble. That didn't stop Fred and George, of course, who were so "thrilled" at Percy being made Prefect, that they made quite a show of making a path for him as he walked the alley turning a darker shade of crimson with every step. Ginny stared in awe as everyone picked out their used books, Percy picked out his new owl, and Ron got measured for his secondary robes.

Ginny sighed to herself. She remembered her promise to George, but it was difficult to think of Ron and not imagine giving him a good punch.

"Earth to Wealsey."

She snapped out of her reverie to find herself standing in front of Madam Malkin's.

"What are we doing here?" she asked. "I thought we were going to your parents' manor?"

"We are," Draco replied, "but first, we need to make you more..." Ginny watched his eye slide down and back up her frame, "presentable."

Ginny took a step back, affronted. She looked at her reflection in the store front window. She was wearing her red Weird Sisters tank with her favorite pair of jeans. Nothing fancy. And sure her hair was a bit dishevelled, but she didn't see anything too bad with her appearance.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, still staring at her reflection.

Draco's sigh was so pronounced, she turned to look him in the face. "I'm sure your family has grown quite used to your, shall we say, casual style." From the look on her face, Draco guessed he wasn't helping her understand. "But these are my parents. Slytherins down both lines. They may have avoided the spotlight, but they still enjoy the glow of shining things."

"I'm not seeing them to show off my glow, and I am most certainly not just some shining thing."

"No one who has ever met you would accuse you of such." He said lazily. "However, if you wish to make a good impression, and I assure you that we do, then the first step is to appear as though you haven't just come from a teenager's conert. They will be seeing you as a woman, so I suggest you look the part."

Ginny watched furiously as he opened the door, holding it open for her. "Ladies first."

After a half hour of Draco's fashion opinions ("Too old fashioned. They're respectable, not ancient." - "You can't wear lace. If my mother even thinks she sees skin beneath your blouse, she'll have you thrown out of the house, and possibly disown me."), Ginny stood in front of the mirror, slightly put off by her new look.

Her feet were killing her in the heels Draco had picked, but after all, they did look nice with the dark blue dress that came just above her knees and was almost too tight. He had also told her to wear her hair up in a bun ("Not a pony tail. Remember, we're trying to convey a sense of maturity here."), and she had to admit, maybe not out loud, that she actually liked they girl, no, the woman staring back from the looking glass.

'Wait a moment," she sad, as Draco started counting out galleons and sickles.

"Don't worry, I've got it."

"I wasn't going to offer." she said, as they left the shop. "Why aren't you getting new clothes? You're just wearing a t-shirt and jeans."

"Simple, I could show up in nothing but those heels and still look great. And besides," he said, "I have some things to pick up while we're there, anyway."

Reluctantly, he could tell, she allowed him to grab her hand in his, and lead the way into the darkness toward Malfoy Manor.

Ginny opened her eyes and took in a deep breath. They were on a roadside, outside a set of wrought iron gates. The serpantine gargoyles flanking them seemed almost alive.

Draco made his way forward, raising his left hand. It was just then that she realized he was still holding her own with his other. He held onto her when she tried to pull away.

"I'll let you go once we're inside." He said to her questioning look. "If you were to try to walk through these gates without certain... markings, you would be cursed as soon as you touched them." He felt her grasp tighten as he continued forward.

As promised, he let her go once past the gates. She looked down at her hand. It was strange to feel the coolness where his had been, while the rest of her was burning in the hot sunlight.

He rang the bell, and for a moment Ginny wondered whether it had worked, but then she heard the sounds of numerous locks being undone before the door opened wide.

"DRACO!"

Ginny moved quickly to the side to avoid being knocked over by the mass of white hair.

"Hello Mother," Draco said, embracing his mother. "It's been some time. Can we come in?"

"We?" Narcissa asked, turning to see Ginny for the first time. "Oh. Um yes, please." She stepped aside, and closed the door behind them. "Draco, this is still your home, though. You don't have to knock."

Ginny followed as Draco was lead to a large sitting room. "Yes, Mother." he said. Ginny smiled at the sweetness of it. Who would've thought there was a side of Daco that wasn't always a cocky bastard.

"Can I get you something to drink? I can make quite a lovely tea now." Narcissa said proudly.

"No, thank you. Actually, I was wondering if Father was home."

Mrs. Malfoy cheerful demeanor slid into a poorly masked pained expression. "Yes. He's, er, downstairs." She said, toying nervously with the charm on her necklace.

Ginny looked from Draco to his mother, and back again. If her face was painful, his was down right fury.

"Mother, I wonder if you would mind entertaining Ginny for me while I have a discussion with Father?" he said in a flat voice sounding very unlike his usual.

Mrs. Weasley looked rather uncomfortable. Whether at the thought of having Draco in a room alone with his father, or at having to spend time with her, Ginny didn't know. But the look on Draco's face made it clear that neither woman was to interject.

"I'll just be a moment," he said, leaving the two ladies in awkward silence.


	7. Relapse

Draco's departure left a ringing silence between the two women. After a few minutes, Narcissa spoke.

"They love each other really. They're just too much alike." she said, staring at the dark doorway. "They always have been."

"I don't think they are." said Ginny, "I don't recall Draco shutting himself up in a room in a fit of self pity."

Narcissa turned to face the younger woman, her eyes glassed over. "There was a time, shortly after the war. Draco would spend the day in his room. He rarely came down."

"Did you ever try going up?"

Narcissa blinked several times. "It seems obvious to me that Draco actually despises him."

"Which would suggest that he must really care for to come here."

Ginny was struck silent by this revelation.

Narcissa's eyes became more focused, as though she just realized who she was talking to. "I'm sorry to hear about Harry."

Ginny winced at the sudden mention of his name.

"I never had the chance to properly thank him... for Draco. He truly was some kind of hero."

For the second time, Ginny could think of nothing to say, but her response wasn't needed. Narcissa resumed her staring at the dark doorway leading to the dungeons, as though she could still see the blond hair that had long since disappeared through it.

"Lumos." Draco lit his wand as he decended deep down the staircase.

It had been many years since he'd been down there. The memory of his last visit still etched in his mind. He remembered retrieving Griphook as Bellatrix continued to torture Hermione two stories above. Ron's screaming pleas still rang in his ears.

Who could have forseen the future they lived now: Griphook dead at the hands of the Dark Lord. Hermione and Draco in love. Ron missing, while he, Draco, was assigned the task of finding him.

Draco continued to the bottom most cell. He wondered if his father had chosen this room of all others to turn into his personal getaway because of it's dark history. He reached the door and knocked.

"Father?"

There was a rustling sound of papers from the other side before chains slid across locks and the door opened, revealing Lucius Malfoy's face.

It had been a year since Draco had seen his father, who had apparently not stepped out of the room in the time elapsed. His once shining blond hair was now dishevelled and white. His smooth face was now covered in a light colored beard. He was still wearing robes of expensive fabric, but looked as though they hadn't been washed in some time. The most disturbing aspect of his appearance was the smile he wore.

"Draco!" Lucius exclamed, stepping back to allow his son into the dark room.

Draco pointed his wand at the torches lining the walls. "Incendio." Lucius blinked in the sudden illumination. Looking around, Draco saw that his father had turned the depressing room into a shrine of sorts to his old life. His Death Eater mask set on a mannequin head on a corner table. Scrolls were stack untidy on the desk, atop a scrap of parchment bearing what appeared to be names some of which were crossed off. The floor was littered with large old books. Faded Wanted posters and newspaper clippings covered most of the walls.

Rookwood, Rosier, Dolohov, and even Bellatrix's faces stared menacingly back surrounded by articles of muggle slayings, mysterious disappearances, and clips of words: "Dark Lord sighted!" - "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returns!" - "Dumbledore dead at Hogwarts" - "Potter defeats Voldemort!"

"Father," Draco repeated.

"I'm so glad you're here." Lucius said, almost unaware his son had spoken. "So glad. I've been doing some research, and I think there's a way-"

"Father."

"-to gather some of the forces back. Obviously we'll have to do it discreetly. It wouldn't be-"

"FATHER!" Draco shouted, interrupting Lucius' ramblings. "I'm sure I'm going to regret asking this, but what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"The Death Eaters, son. The Death Eaters!" Lucius looked quite mad in the lighht of the flickering candles. "Now listen, I believe if we can contact at least-"

"Stop." Draco said quietly. Although the word was barely audible, the force with which he said it shut his father up. "I was right, I regret asking. How many years have you wasted down here?"

"Wasted?" Lucius asked, looking confused, "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"The war has been finished for almost 10 years," Draco answered with contempt in every syllable. "and you're still here, playing dressup like nothing ever changed."

"I know things have changed." Lucius said, his voice dropping low to match his son's.

"I'm not sure you do, Father. He's dead. Voldemort is dead." Lucius flinched. "See? You can't even stand to hear the name. The rest of the world has been using it as a joke since Harry killed him, and you still cower in fear at the mention of it."

Draco turned away, unable to look at him. Instead, he looked at a shining silver hand perched on a desk. "Do you even realize what you're doing to Mother?" he continued, "When was the last time you told her you love her? When was the last time you even talked to her at all?"

"My relationship with your mother is none of your business."

Draco spun around, raising his wand, "Hear me now, Father," Lucius looked from the tip of the wand to his son's face, "You are killing her slowly, by the day. She married a man who revealed himself to be a monster. You have been given a second chance, yet find yourself less of a man than the smallest child. You are not worthy of the devotion she gives you, but she loves you none the less. You have already given me up as a son. Don't lose the only family you have left."

"Then why are you here?" Lucius spit. "Why soil my father's soil with your presence?"

"I had come to ask a favor, but it appears you are in far greater need of help than I am."

Lucius seemed to gather himself and straightened up. "You dare come into the house of our ancestry, a house you abandoned. You abandoned your home and your family for that filthy mudblood-"

Wand forgotten, Draco punched Lucius as hard as he could and watched as his father stumbled back, falling into the desk. By the time he had regained his balance, Draco was in front of him, pointing his wand at Lucius' face.

"If I ever hear you utter that word again, you'll answer to me."

"You know, son," Lucius said, kneeling on the stone floor and wiping his bloody nose, "Your little girlfriend should watch after herself. I hear there are still some who frown upon those of... lesser blood purity. I'm sure we would all regret it if something happened UGH!" Draco brought his knee up, feeling his father's already damaged nose crunch under his force. Lucius blacked out as the dungeon door slammed and the lights extinguished.

Draco met his mother and Ginny at the top of the stairs, both with wands raised.

"Is everything alright?" Narcissa asked, grabbing Draco and looking past him, down the stairwell. "We heard a commotion."

"It's alright," he said, embracing his mother. "I've just had to inform Father of some misinformation he had."

"Draco," Narcissa said started.

"Listen mother," he said, pulling away to stare into her eyes, "that... man, down there is not the man you married. The man about whom you told me stories of your time in school. You don't deserve what he does to you."

"He's just..."

"Don't make excuses for him, Mother." Draco said, "He put himself into his downward spiral, and he refuses to leave it. But that doesn't mean you have to go down with him. Pack your thing. Hermione and I have a spare room you can stay in. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Narcissa pulled her son's hands gently away from her arms. "Draco," she said, kissing him lightly on the forehead. "You worry too much for me. I have missed you so much, but now, it is time for me to take care of myself. You have grown to be such a wonderful man. Hermione is a very lucky woman to have you."

Draco wasn't aware of the tear she wiped from his cheek. "Mother?"

"Go." She said, "Help your young friend here. She needs you much more than I do."

Narcissa made her way down toward the dungeons, leaving Draco staring after her.

"Draco?" Ginny said, placing her hand on his back, "are you alright?"

Draco took a last glance toward the stairs before setting his jaw. "Let's go. I have a lead."


	8. Underground

Ginny spent the following ten minutes grasping Draco's hand as he disapparated and apparated in a seemingly random blur of colors, blindness, sounds, and silence. She would hear car horns blaring a split second before deafness engulfed her. Next moment she was on top of a hill next to an old shack, then submerged in darkness again. Over and over this process was repeated until at last they stopped in a dark alley.

She gasped for breathe, and immediately regretted it. The alley smelled like it was home to a hundred cats, all of them dead.

When she finally regained her breathing, she rounded on Draco. "What the hell was that about?" She said.

"Following directions." said Draco, pulling his wand out. "Shh." he said, silencing her protests of his answer.

She watched, fuming silently as he walked to a blank wall, and tapped it with his wand. She expected the wall to come apart like the one leading to Diagon Alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Instead, she found herself falling down a chute behind Draco. On and on the slide went and she was forcibly reminded of the Chamber of Secrets.

She finally slip to a stop at the bottom, as Draco dusted himself off, looking at a giant, green metal door with a smaller door in the middle of it.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing now? Or should I just wait here for the next breath taking surprise of Oz?"

"We're here to meet someone who likes their privacy. You have to go through a series of checkpoints, the apparating spots, before you come here. You have to use a nonverbal spell to unlock the trap door, and now we're in phase three: Human interaction." Draco turned to look at Ginny. "And as lovely as your knickers are, I don't think seduction is a good idea."

Ginny hurried to brush her dress down. "There's a reason I don't wear dresses."

"I know. You don't have the calves for it." he said, knocking in rhythm on the steel door.

Her retort was stopped by the viewing door being opened.

"We're closed." Came a rough voice from the other side.

Draco put his face up to the window. "But I have a coupon."

"How much off?"

"It says here 125%."

"One moment."

Ginny watched the small door close with a baffled look on her face. "This just gets weirder and weirder. Who was that?"

"That was Francis." Draco said, seemingly ignorant to her confusion. "but don't call him that. He prefers Frank."

"Can I at least know who we're here to meet?"

"The head of an underground mob. Excuse the pun." he said. "He's worked his way from the bottom to the top, and knows everyone in between."

The small door opened again and Frank reappeared. "Payment first."

Draco dropped a rather large coin bag into the oversized outstretched hand. "125 galleons, feel free to count it."

The door opened and Frank came out. Ginny looked up toward his face, but it was lost in shadows. _He has to be part giant_, she thought.

They made their way forward, but Frank put out a skillet sized hand. "Not you."

"What?" Ginny said, looking at Draco. "Why didn't you tell me this before I came all this way?"

"Not my rules. He has to see who he's helping." he said. "You can always try seducing Frank, here."

Ginny looked back up into the shadowy face. Was that a smile? "No, I think I'll go. I need to meet with the Director of Auror Relations anyway. Now how do I get out?"

"Disapparate, of course." said Draco. "You can't magic in, but they have no problem allowing you to get out as quickly as possible."

Ginny spared him a slight glare before spinning and disappearing.

"Lead the way, Frank." Draco said.

The two men walked the dimly lit corridor in silence. As they walked, Draco counted the torch brackets on his right. _37 - 38 - 39 - 40_ The flames barely visible, causing slight dancing shadows on the walls.

"How cold do you think it is, Frank?" Draco asked suddenly, "About 45 degrees?"

"Fifty"

"Yes, well, heat rises."

Frank suddenly stopped and reached into what seemed to be just another solid portion of stone, pulling out what resembled a slightly bent car antenna.

"Must we do this every time, Frank?" said Draco, stretching out his arms.

"Procedure."

"You know one of these day, I'm going to insist you buy me drinks first." Draco said, as Frank stored the probe back in the wall before leaving without another word.

Draco dug his hands deep into his pockets. It really was cold. There was no chance of sunlight reaching this place and the tiny torch fires did nothing but tease the temperature with false hope of warmth.

After exactly 5 minutes, Draco heard hinges creak directly behind him. He turned, and was momentarily blinded by the light issuing from the door that had previously been nonexistent.

"Damn it!" he said, covering his eyes, "I hate it when you do that."

"Sorry, but I can't hardly risk you blowing me head off, now can I?"

As Draco's eyes adjusted to the light, the short, fat man came into focus. His plush red smoking jacket and slicked back hair were at odds with the smell of foreign cigars and strong whiskey.

"You're looking well, Fletcher." Draco said, extending a hand.

"'Ow many times I told ya? Name's Dung." the man said, taking the offered hand and shaking it. "Only the Aurors call me Fletcher, and I don't suppose you bein' an Auror."

"Not quite," said Draco, wiping his hand on his pants as Mundungus led the way back through the door. They entered a cozy room occupied with a large oak desk, two chairs, a fully stocked bar, and was otherwise full of television sets with fuzzy pictures. Draco looked at a few and saw the checkpoints he'd told Ginny about. He noticed the one in the alley outside was particularly unclear.

"Still can't get reception?" he said, tapping a screen.

"Nah, it's all the bloody magic." said Mundungus, taking a seat behind his desk, and indicating Draco sit as well. "Causes me cameras to go wonky. Care for a drink?"

Draco sat in the chair opposite the desk. "No, thank you. Actually, you mention Aurors..."

"Right, Potter. Pity that was. I always liked him."

Draco watched as Mundungus sat down with a glass of dark liquid. "So you've heard?"

"Well of course I 'ave. The whole world has 'eard."

"Then I suppose you have heard about his friend, Ron Weasley?"

"Oo's that again?"

"Fletcher... Dung," Draco corrected himself, "I've just been to see my father."

Mundungus took a prolonged drink from his glass before setting it back down on the desk with a shaky hand. He wiped his lip on his smoking jacket. "Oh yeah? 'Ow's he doing?"

Draco dismissed the question. "Strange thing, Dung." he said, leaning forward onto the desk. "I saw a scrap of parchment setting on his desk. And do you know what was on this piece of parchment, Dung?"

"W-well, I don't see 'ow I could-"

Draco cut him off. "It was a list, Dung. A list of names. And funny enough, your name was on that list."

"Was it now?" Mundungus picked up his empty glass, and sat it back down.

"Yes, and right next to it, the word 'exempt' was written."

"I don't-"

"Out of all the names on that list, yours was the only one with that word written next to it. Now why is that?" Draco stared Dung in the eyes, and the older man seemed unable to look away even as Draco pulled his wand out and pointed it at the door, causing a slight shimmer in the air. "All the names before yours had a line through them. And all the names after yours as well, all the way to Harry Potter."

"I see where you're going, mate, but I can't help y-"

There was a loud bang and Mundungus flew into the air, landing on his back behind his chair. Draco was standing over him, wand tip pointed at his chest.

"Help!"

"No point in screaming, Dung," Draco said, crouching down, "Muffliato. Useful tip I learned from Potter. Now, I want to know what the list is. And I'll give you one warning, don't play stupid with me."

"Alright, alright!" Mundungus said, putting his hands up in surrender. "It's a list of people who done against You-Know-Oo."

"And what's my father doing with this list?"

"Ee and a couple a old Death Eater buddies got something going on with it."

"Where's the rest of the list?"

"Rest of... what?"

Mundungus screamed as Draco shot a spell of blue fire at his head, barely missing it, but close enough to set the tips of his greasy hair alight.

"That was your one warning." Draco said as Mundungus patted the flame out.

"Alright, there's three pages. I got a copy of 'em in me desk. Top right drawer."

"Accio list." Draco said. Three pieces of parchment flew across the room, landing on Mundugus' heaving chest. Draco looked over the list, before turning his attention back to Fletcher. "You know the names on this list?"

"Course I do. Memory like a elephant, I got. 'Ow you think I got that list 'ere?"

"Then you won't be needing this one anymore." Draco said, standing up and pocketing the list. "One last thing. Who are these Death Eater pals my father is working with?"

"I don't know. Honest!" Mundungus yelled, as Draco pointed his wand at him.

"I don't take the word of criminals too lightly, Dung. If I find out you're lying, I'll be back." Draco said, crossing to the door. "And when I return, you can forget your hair. I'll be coming to burn down your whole empire."

Back out in the alley, Draco looked at the list again. Just above Harry Potter was the name "Ron Weasley." Was he already too late? Scanning it again, he saw under Harry's name. Chills ran up his spine as his blood ran cold.

"Hermione Granger."


End file.
